Warring Pyongyang // Reader x Countryhumans

Golden Dust

      Y/N awakened an unknown amount of time later, her head still on North's chest. Shifting, she tried to close her eyes again, but they popped open, unheeding.

    Sighing, she sat up, then remembered her book.

     'Ssi-bal, I left it in the mosque. What time is it?'

     She picked her phone up, still in her possession, and performed the arcane task of checking the time- 23:44. Surprisingly early. She had only slept for a couple hours.

    "What is it?" North asked, opening his eye.

      "I left my book at the mosque." She neglected to mention that it was Kim Il-sung's biography, not wanting to risk North's wrath. "I'm going to go get it."

     He was instantly wide awake. "I'll go with you."

     Y/N shook her head firmly, pushing the country's shoulders down back onto the pillow. "Stay here. I'll get Kangwon to drive me, if he's awake."

       North agreed, which signalled that he was really tired. So she went downstairs, to the door with the green flower painted on it.

     After a moment, Kangwon answered, his white eyes stained red like his skin. "Y/N? What's up?" He sounded tired.

      "I, um, left my book at the mosque," she said, embarrassed. "I was wondering if you could drive me, but... you look tired."

     Kangwon shook his head. "I can't sleep anyways. Come on."

     They took the stairs, and Y/N looked down the guest hall, wondering if China was lurking in the shadows.

     The drive there was quiet- their car was the only one on the roads. It was nice, driving through a city at night, and not witnessing a single drug deal, or stabbing. Not even a scantily-dressed middle-aged woman, trawling for men, using her body as bait.

       "Are you okay?" Kangwon asked her as they crossed the bridge. "That must have been tough on you."

      "Yeah," Y/N said quietly. "I've never been so close to someone when they died."

      She had witnessed dead bodies, occasionally- a tweaker OD'd on heroin, a homeless man at a bus stop in winter, a prostitute at a crime scene with her throat slashed. And more recently, North's door guards, shot dead by America. They had been strangers, though, and had had no emotions connected to them, beyond a vague human grief.

      "I've had people die in my arms," Kangwon murmured. "But never a country."

     They got out at the mosque, Kangwon holding a flashlight. "The power is cut at night, to save energy," he explained.

     Y/N pulled out her Huawei, pulling down the scroll screen, like China had shown her, clicking the flashlight button. A bright light lit up the building, brighter than Kangwon's torch.

     "Show off," Kangwon muttered good-naturedly, leading the way.

     Lying on the bench in the entrance was the book. Y/N grabbed it, tucking it into her coat.

      "Kim Il-sung's biography?" the province asked, raising his brows. "Good thing someone else didn't find out that you left that."

      A vague humming noise emanated from the inner sanctum, catching both of their attentions.

     "Allah?" Y/N squeaked fearfully, at the same time that Kangwon said, "Ghost?"

      They looked at each other. "Y-Yeah," Y/N said. "Probably yours."